


A Dark Ray

by Ohgodimdoingthisarenti



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Last Jedi
Genre: Dark Rey, F/F, F/M, Force-Sensitive Finn, Kylo Ren Dies, M/M, Multi, basically little glimmers of Rey/everyone but Finnrey is endgame so, tons of potential for multishipping, we'll see if I decide to keep this up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 10:02:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13097760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohgodimdoingthisarenti/pseuds/Ohgodimdoingthisarenti
Summary: Rey decides that the First Order needs to come to an end, and that end will begin with the death of Kylo Ren. In killing him, she stands to lose the light within herself, but there's someone that isn't willing to let her. Finn will travel any distance to bring her back, from the Order and from the darkness that threatens to consume her





	A Dark Ray

Rey's hands ran over the vines, trembling, sore. The tendrils breathed below her, pulsating, tandem with her heart. They seemed dormant, stuck firm against ground below, rigid as metal or bone. Still, she could feel the life in it. It flowed through her. It was the fire in her veins, the clench in her throat that left her reeling for breath. She looked at the gaping hole before her. It was a flat black mass, stagnant, enveloping all that may hope to penetrate it. It was eternal, both compact and massive. Nothing could be made of it, and yet still it spoke to her. She inched forward slowly, extending her arm. She was absent in her own body. She watched as her actions rolled forward, making small, almost passive refusals against what her form was intent upon. 

Suddenly, she was slipping, then, she was suspended. Her arms flailed about, hoping to catch hold of something, anything. She reached forward, her fingertips brushing the rays of sun permeating overhead. She watched as the sunlight was consumed by the void that she too had fell victim to, feeling the sudoric heat as it was sealed away, leaving a haunting cool. Before she knew it, her body was propelled into a vast pool. She floundered erratically, slipping further and further, the water like a vice upon her chest. The freezing liquid clambered into her throat, filling her, sitting in her organs like sandbags, pulling her deeper still. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. She found herself amidst a lunar glow, the fluid radiating like some kind of bio luminescent animal.

Her senses returned, firing into her a great sense of dread. She thrashed against the water, her body slicing through the water, pressing up with all her might. Still, she found herself slipping further into the trenches, her movements never quite enough. She kicked, screamed, bargained. The insidious slough invaded her, like daggers, tearing her apart. For the first time in a long time, death was feasible. Not in the overarching sense, like when she'd go days without food or water on the desolate Jakku. Not even in the imminent sense, like when she'd battled Kylo Ren or escaped a crumbling planet. Death was surrounding now, death was an enemy, present and physical, and it was after her.

She paused, tensing herself, her jaw locked tight. "Fine," she told herself. "Another way, than."

She focused on what surrounded her, at the effervescent liquid, how it lapped at her, swaying just so. It was full of darkness, buzzing with it, really. Rey wasn't sure that there was any light to be found here, nothing to tether her, nothing to aid her. No, it was just darkness, and already she could feel it eroding the parts of her that she was so fought so hard to maintain. It spoiled the image of the parents she didn't even have an image for, harassed her with the memory of them deserting her. She could see her young self sobbing, staring up at the sky, screaming, begging for them to come back to her. She could feel the portly creature, Unkar, curl his fingers around her arm. It stung, but the pain was nothing compared to the hollowness that their abandonment had carved into her.

That hollowness festered into her, and the more she focused upon it, the more it turned to anger. She recalled the night in the snowy forest, how Kylo tossed Finn away so callously, as if he was less than garbage. She recalled the destruction of the Republic, how simple it was, how easy it was to inflict complete and total ruination in this world. It burned her. Everything was feudal, the fight, all of it. Generations of conflict and they were even further from balance then they were in the times of Vader. Darkness overwhelmed the light, and those who would deny that, to the point of absolute rebellion, were fools.

That anger flung her into the air, powerful as a blaster. Her body came down hard, clashing against the stone. She writhed, scraping at her aching bones, bellowing and moaning.   
"Shit," she cursed, rolling onto her side.

She was faced something now. It was a tall thing, cracked, yet smooth. She crawled toward it, plopping at the base of thing, studying it for a moment. It was intriguing. Ostensibly, it wasn't too out of the ordinary. Sure, it was a bit misplaced, given the rest of the interior, but still, Rey could find much about it that should shake. Yet, it spoke to her. It whispered, fervently. Just like before, the more she focused on it, the more aggressive it became. It told her promises of great knowledge, something grand, life changing even. She was willing, though, in some small distant part of herself, she was ashamed. 

"I should fight it," she lamented. The words were empty. They echoed over the cave walls, interminable. 

She placed her palm flat against the surface, projecting into it her most extraordinary desire. Objects weaved about before a spiderweb formation, incomplete silhouettes struggling to take form. Two, there was now, two flimsy apparitions, walking toward her. She found herself impressing upon the thing even harder, so hard that she felt her joints may snap. She yearned for the answer, screaming at the things to take focus. She was quaking. At that moment, she felt that the answer, what ever it may be, could steal the life from her. Alternatively, the weight of the thing could breath into her, could assure her that she had a place in this boundless universe.

She wanted to be more than no one. 

Her brow furrowed. The two forms converged, now one dark body. It advanced toward her. It was full now, detailed. It was her. It was only her. That's all it ever was. That's all it ever would be.  
"No it's not," a voice inserted. It was husky. The tone of it made her shiver.

"Leave," she spat. The demand was feeble, her voice thin.

"I won't," he stated simply. "Not when you need me."

"I don't need you," Rey quipped.

"You need me," he replied, the words warbled, like daggers into her ear canal. "I need you, too. We could rule this galaxy together. You know that, right?"

Rey remained silent, thoughts stewing within her. His words proliferated her brain, growing more and more twisted as time carried on. An idea formed in her, something twisted and malicious, but so very concise. She'd go to him. She knew where he was. She knew how to get there.

"Maybe I do know that," she answered. "I understand that I can help you. I understand that there is still light in you."

He let out a sharp chuckle. "Light in me?" he sneered. "What of the light left in you? I can feel it, the darkness inside you. It's spreading. It starts like that. You'll understand it soon. Your stringent views of light and dark, your sense of uniform self, none of those are real. What's real is the power inside of you. You'll lose yourself in it, once you realize that. You'll become greater than the sum of your parts, or your parents parts. Don't fight it."

Rey grimaced. She could feel Kylo, his gaze, the way it lingered. He was getting closer, projecting a pellucid form only inches away from herself. 

"No."

 

She arrived. The overhead lighting was despotic. Nearby was a fleet of ships, some docile, others being prepped for battle, things flying in and out, troopers rushing in every which direction. The casement of her pod popped open, crisp air fleeing into the open space. She craned her neck to take in the place. She was then, of course, greeted by Kylo. He wore no helmet. He looked at her with dark eyes, scanning her features like a predator. To her, it looked like he was looking for a way in, a way to invade her, a way to ensure her complacency. That's always how he looked to her, like he was always playing a game with her, never a genuine moment between. She didn't mind, in that moment. She was playing the game too.

He stepped aside, allowing two storm troopers to step forward. She sighed, standing straight. She had no intention of resisting.

The two troopers yanked her from the pod, and she stumbled, shooting a quick glance at Kylo. Nothing was apparent in his features. Rey knew better. His mind was a cluster, words overlapping, thoughts intersected by thoughts. It stung her brain to make anything of it. She enjoyed how unrefined his thoughts were, how little sense they made. She could feel him trying to prod her mind. It was a distant knock, an almost muffled sound. She sharpened her gaze. Just for a moment, she saw a flash of indiscretion, a map of wrinkles over his foreheads, there and gone in a fraction of a moment. She was sure that his fear would soon turn to anger, and that he'd soon be tearing apart some expensive machinery. He was a wealth of contradictions, speaking of the denial of self while burying his less savory emotions.

The troopers snapped some particularly heavy cuffs around her wrists, tossing her forward. She knew where she was going. Kylo had given it away. Rey winced as she realized something. There was something strange among those frantic thoughts. It was something soft, a worry for her. Though he wasn't sure if he was truly worrying for her, or perhaps the loss of her potential. There was a possibility that he couldn't differentiate between the two. That could've been something that Snoke inserted into him that still remained. In some ways, Kylo was truly still a child. For a moment, like Luke, Rey grieved the boy that Kylo would've become, had he allowed his family's love to stick. Rey could only imagine that life, the privilege of connection. 

She had pondered the kind of parents that Han Solo and Leia Organa would be. It was one of those comfortable places that she let her mind wander to. She remembered just how kind Leia's eyes were, how much wisdom they held, and how much sadness. She wondered how much of that sadness had come from Kylo himself. Then there was Han, whom she had such an inexplicable affinity for. He was the kind of person she liked to picture her father as being. He was endearing, funny, kind. What it must've been like to come home to people who cared about your well-being, to sit at a table and talk about what you'd learn, something fun and new that you had seen. Rey knew only sand and waste in her formative years, and the home she came home to was occupied only by loose ideals of what parents might be.

Before she knew it, Rey was being thrust into a cramped elevator, Kylo settling beside her. She could feel Snoke's presence. It didn't feel the way she thought it would. It wasn't so severe, or painful. It just was. There was a cleanliness about it, a quiet malice. Refined. For the first time since she arrived, she felt fear.

 

She found herself taken back by just how precise everything looked, from the glossy black floor to the scarlet drapes that stood in the backdrop. A dozen armored men posed rigidly before the satin curtains, like chess pieces made of red wax. Before her, Snoke sat on a rather industrial looking throne dressed in a gaudy golden robe. Rey wasn't sure what she expecting, though she somehow found herself surprised both and entirely indifferent. He was a horrid looking man, and the air that imbued about him was far more so. Yet still, she felt in control.

He leaned against the arm of his chair, malformed face balanced lazily in his palm. He looked as though his face was made of clay, malleable, sunken and stretched with somewhat sporadic placement. A massive rift ran down the front of his cranium, bands of exposed nerve held precariously within his dented cheek. She couldn't begin to imagine what story that face could tell. 

He regarded her, gaze languid, almost bored.

"Well done, my good and faithful apprentice," said Snoke. His voice was gravely, hollow. It made the hair on Rey's arms stand like needles. "My faith in you is restored." 

"Young Rey," he continued. "Welcome." Rey looked at him, sure to keep her expression firm. 

"You're unafraid," he remarked, grinning a wide, toothy grin. His smile was unnerving, his teeth stained and misaligned. His every mannerism unveiled something dismaying, like when he turned his head and the dim light shone upon his murky blue eyes. That feature was particularly alarming, as it told her that somewhere, underneath the stretched tendons and fleshy masses, there was a man. Though, she supposed, Darth Vader too was just a man, as was Kylo. Under the masks and apparatuses and capes were just men. How long would it take Kylo to lose that which made him a man and become like Snoke? How long would it be before he completely separate himself from little boy Ben? What small feature would remain of him after he completely gave himself to the darkness?

"So I am," she retorted. 

"I see your intentions," he stated. He was wrong though. He saw what she wanted him to see. The strain of maintaining this facade truly pained her. She was drowning in herself, suffocating. It was excruciating. "You think you can save my apprentice. You think you can bring him to the light."

"There is light in him," said Rey. There was truth to that. Nothing in this world was free of darkness, just as nothing was free of light. It was both an inherent and earned quality in all beings. The presence of light in Kylo meant nothing to Rey, really. The light within him would not stop him from reaping his terror upon this world, nor would the darkness in her drive her to do the kind of things that he had done. The light in him was inconsequential. He had chosen his fate, just like she would choose her's. What she had planned was not a decision that she had been driven due to the darkness in her. It was the logical end. Perhaps her darkness allowed her to accept this conclusion, but it was something she had known for a long while. Or so she told herself.

"There's darkness in you," he stated. 

"In all things," she said simply. 

"So much strength," he commented. "Darkness rises, and light to meet it. I warned my young apprentice as he grew stronger, his equal in the light would rise." He paused, gauging the girl with his eyes. "Closer, I said."

Suddenly, her body ascended, her toes reaching frantically for footing. In that moment, it was as if he was occupying every part of her. He was in her being, possessing her in some way. She glided forward, her body locked in place, as if her spine were made of rebar. She could see a reflection of herself in the floor. It was distorted, mangled. He reached out again, and her body jerked into place just a few feet before him.

"You underestimate Skywalker. And Ben Solo. And me," she said.

"You sense weakness in him. Is that why you came?" he snickered. "It was I who breached your minds. I sensed his conflicted soul, I knew he was not strong enough to hide it from knew, and you were not wise enough to resist the bait."

Rey didn't feel much revelation at those words. None of what he said mattered to her. He had failed in his endeavor, her purpose here was nothing of the rescuing sort. She was here to end the First Order. She could hear the conflict inside Kylo expanding, metamorphosing. It wasn't the light that was building inside him, it was the desire to escape Snoke. He was yearning for something, for the desire to define himself. He knew that he would never be anything more than Snoke's apprentice, not as long as Snoke continued to live. 

"Now you will give me Skywalker," the creature said, words paused by baited breaths. He was enjoying this, in a feral way, predatory. "Then I will kill you with the cruelest stroke."

"No," Rey spat.

"Yes," Snoke retorted. He thrusted her across the room, sharp wind billowing her rags. He stopped her abruptly, contorting her, her body akimbo, stomach facing the ceiling. She stared up at the metal columns, the map of polished, black steel. "Give me everything," said the man.

He was inside her veins, swarming, icy tendrils tearing her asunder. Her head was filled with static, her senses buzzing. She anguished, screaming so loud that she thought her vocal cords may burst. She could feel him watching her most integral memories. He left a sticky thumbprint on all that he watched, a filthy, perverted residue. He flipped through her memories of adolescence on Jakku, the countless times she fell asleep on a damp cot with an empty stomach. He watched the endless hours she slaved away just to survive, the waste she pilfered. He watched her avoid the other scavengers, slipping into tight spaces, waiting for the monsters to pass.

Even worse, he touched the memories she cherished. He touched the times that Finn gripped her hand, so tight that she thought their hands may meld together like molten steel. He touched the time he demanded that they rescue her, the times they embraced, the times they fell into each others gaze, drowning with no desire to swim. Then, he touched the first time that she had ever seen a planet not gripped by drought. After that, the memory of Han, then Leia, and again Finn. Again she remembered Finn colliding with that massive tree. The anger allowed her to clear a path, however small, that was protected from his influence. He couldn't see her plan. It was potentially damaging to keep him out, but somehow she managed.

She was released, her body heaved onto the floor. Snoke snickered. 

"I did not expect Skywalker to be so wise. We will give him and the Jedi order the death he desires," he droned on, saying things Rey didn't care to hear. She squeezed her eyes shut, her hand extending, calling for her saber once again. It took flight, sailing right by her, taking a sharp turn before colliding with the back of her head. She winced, and once again found herself off her feet. Snoke dragged her to a window, a small porthole into the endless expanse of space. Dread gripped her like lightening parting a dark sky, her heart heavy. There were ships, rebel ships, there and gone as if they had never been in the first place, lazers tearing into them, scattering them into the stars, dooming them to nothingness. Still, Snoke monologued, but none of it reached her.

Once more she reached, this time not for her own saber, but Kylo's. She gripped it, tight enough that her knuckles flushed bone white. "You have the spirit of a true Jedi," Snoke began.

She rushed the man, though as quickly as she did she was flung across the room.

"And because of that, you must die."

Rey was tugged upward, placed on her knees before Kylo. 

"My worthy apprentice, son of darkness, heir apparent to lord Vader. Where there was once conflict I now sense resolve, where there was weakness, strength. Complete your training and fulfill your destiny."

"I know what I have to do," Kylo said. Rey could see it in him, a new sense of self. The darkness still brewed, but now it was his own, not an ounce tainted by his former mentor. Snoke rambled grandoise sentiment, Rey and Kylo speaking things to each other that Snoke was too inept to sense. He shouted, self indulgent, meaningless things. Rey could feel what Kylo was doing, as sure as she was doing it herself. In fact, she wasn't sure she wasn't doing it herself, with Kylo's aid. The saber struck, Snoke choking out one final, shrill breath.

What happened next was barely slow enough for her to conceive. The two of them danced across the room. They moved quick, seamless, gliding over the glossy, laminate flooring, tearing through each of the soldiers as if they were made of glass. For a moment, Rey felt a kinship with Kylo. Still, even as they maneuvered that battlefield, Rey remained alert to Kylo's thought. The darkness in him was undulating. It was excited. Now that Snoke was gone, Kylo was free to revel in the spoil inside of himself. When Snoke controlled it, Kylo grew ashamed of it, but now that it was his alone, he was proud, ecstatic.

They spun into place, bodies strewn about around them. They heaved, lungs burning. Rey looked at the man, looking just one last to reaffirm that which had drove her here. She was ready, ready to end it, ready to strike down the last pillar of the first order. Still, something called to her. A quiet voice, telling her to check, just once more, just in case. 

"Ben," she said, her tone heavy with exhaustion. "Will you help me? Will you help me put an end to the suffering proliferated by the First Order? Will you help me destroy the shame you've created in your grandfathers name? Could we do that? Together?"

"I will," the man said. She looked at him, curious. It made her feel lighter, just for a second. She let herself hope, hope that she and him could return to the rebellion together. She knew that would make Leia so happy. She knew how the woman loved him, how she believed in the good in him, even still. She would consider it a token to the woman, for not being able to save Han. She could restore her family, even if it wasn't whole.

"Together, we can destroy this archaic rule. We can destroy all of it, the pain that this war between the rebels and the imperials has caused. No more order, no more rebellion. A universe ruled by itself. We can eradicate the filth that my mother has burgeoned. All of it needs to be extinguished. We can watch the death of the rebellion, right here and now, and then we can end the order ourselves."

He extended a gloved hand to her. His eyes were glassy with desire, his blanched lips quivering. Rey wished that he had said something else. Anything would have done, really. His words dripped with hate. More than that, they dripped with resolve, an craving for slaughter. This is who he was, at his most raw, without Snoke pulling his reigns. It felt like she was looking at him for the first time. She hated what she saw.

She walked toward him, staring at him. His hand was shaking. He needed someone in this world, he was lonely in his anger, in his hatred, especially since his master was gone. Rey took his hand, pulling into him close. He smelled like copper and leather. His body was stiff, though she could feel his soften at her touch. It made it hard to do what she was going to do. But still, it needed to be done. Her finger flicked the switch. She could hear the energy shred through him. He slumped against her, his hand gripping at her back. She stumbled backward, unable to handle his weight against her. Her body hit the floor, her legs in a tangle. His head fell into her lap, and he sputtered. Warm liquid pooled around the two, tacky, appearing an inky black under the weak light.

He tried to say something, but his words were drowned by the blood in his lungs. Rey watched him as he twitched and coughed, wishing she could peel her eyes from the gore before her. She felt something then. She could quite pinpoint it at first, but after the life had gone and his eyes were dimmed, she understood. It was answer to this war. It was a solution. It was inside of her, the means to an end. She would do it if she had to, she would run through all of them if she had to. She lose herself, entomb who she was, become what the universe needed. She would let the darkness in, so that she could purge the world of this imperious order. Because that was what it would take.

Just for a moment, she crumpled forward. Then, she cried.

 

Finn awoke. His body ached, his eyes bleary. It took a while for his vision to adjust, but when it did he was able to see a set of schematics, lines of information on his own condition. The language was foreign, but he recognized some of it from one of the many lessons he was forced to learn as a child in the First Order. From what he read, he shouldn't really be awake at all, even in spite of the advanced curative technology that the rebellion possessed. It made sense, given just how much pain he was in. 

The pain didn't deter him from continuing on. After all, there was someone that he had to talk to, someone he had to affirm the safety of. It wasn't a surprise to him that she was the first thing to come to his mind. She was the first thing in his life, really, that had made sense. She was the first thing that was a part of him, the first thing that he could freely believe in, the first thing that wasn't inserted into him by someone else. He didn't know it, but he was all of those firsts for her as well.

He pulled himself up, pressing the glass pod open. Cool air rushed in, biting at his wounds. He scanned the room around him. Everything was silent, still. The overhead lights purred, flickering just slightly. The question of why he was awake remained.

He noticed for the first time that he was wearing something transparent and inflated. It was awkward, frictitious. He would've pulled it off if there was something underneath. He waddled, his bare feet padding over the chilled tile. He took pause as something seemed to yank him back, stumbling into place. Rapidly, his senses seemed to fade, replaced by plumes of grey vapor. He wasn't unfamiliar with this feeling. It had affected him intermittently throughout his childhood. It was a vision. He hadn't had one for a while. They were mostly reserved for some faceless, yet familiar people. They thought of him, too. They could never quite communicate, but they acknowledged each other, gave each other warmth, even if they didn't really know that they were doing it. 

Mostly, it was two girls and what he supposed to be their mother. Sometimes their father would be there too. He could communicate the way the women did, though. He was regal, stoic. Finn felt chaos in him though. Something was probing at him, a sadness he couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried. He recognized that feeling as loss. It was in the others too, but they didn't bother to hide it. It would cripple them sometimes. It was grief and anger and confusion. It tore them apart, not knowing, it shook them fundamentally, took from them everything that was fundamental and sacred to their being. He often wished he could help them, the strangers in his mind. 

How could he even begin to help them if he didn't even know if they truly existed?

The visions ended after some years. He'd focus until it pained him, but nothing would come. The channel was closed. The hope was gone. He thought, perhaps, that he would see them once again. A new vision of them wasn't unwelcome. He pondered what they had become. Were they happy? Had they found what they were looking for? He hoped that there was some reprieve for what had haunted them.

However, the vision he had was not of them. It was a vision of the person he wished to see most. Had he conjured this vision of her by his own desire, or was he seeing this because he was meant to? Either way, he was happy he was seeing it. That happiness would prove to be a fleeting thing. It was Rey. She was on the floor, tan ropes drenched in scarlet. Her chestnut hair was frayed, suckling against her sudoric skin. She was sobbing, bloated and red. Finn reached, hoping to console her somehow. 

"Rey," he whispered. She turned toward him.

"Finn," she replied, her voice a plea. She wanted him to hold him. She wanted to him to remind her of herself. He held in him all the parts of her that she was starting to forget. As she looked at him, at his dark, kind eyes, she could feel the darkness waver. They could feel their hands touch, their callused palms feeling, once again, that so very foreign tenderness. 

Just then, a flood of armored soldiers galloped in, their heavy boots scraping the polished floor. They encroached upon her, blasters drawn. Rey simply sat there, looking a question at Finn, desperately asking what she should do. One of the troopers came behind her, scooping her limp body up, cuffing her. 

Finn reached once again, screaming. "Rey!" he shouted. "I'll find you, I swear! I'll get you back, we'll get you back, whatever it takes!" He wretched, reaching and reaching, clamoring desperately to maintain contact. It was to know avail. The vision faded, like a ripple across a pond, distorting the scene until it was nothing. 

He was alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> I've quite literally never came up with a good title in my life


End file.
